Eros and Psyche AU
by District4-divergent-nephilim
Summary: A Destiel AU based on the ancient Greek myth of Eros and Psyche.


**So I came up with this idea a while ago, and finally got around to writing it. Here's a key that tells you the characters and their mythological counterparts.**

 **Psyche- Dean Winchester**

 **Eros- Castiel**

 **Queen- Mary Winchester  
**

 **King- John Winchester**

 **Sister/Brother #1- Sam Winchester**

 **Sister/Brother #1- ****Adam Milligan**

 **Aphrodite- Michael**

 **Hermes- Gabriel**

 **Zeus- Carter**

 **Zephyr- Samandriel**

 **Persephone- Meg Masters**

 **Hades- Crowley**

 **Hestia- Ellen Harvelle**

 **Demeter- Garth Fitzgerald**

 **Eros's head servant- Hannah**

 **Athena- Charlie Bradbury**

 **Artemis- Jo Harvelle**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own _Supernatural._**

* * *

Long ago, in a far-off land, there lived a happily-married king and queen, who had been blessed by the gods with three exceptionally handsome sons. King John and Queen Mary were fair and just rulers, and everyone in their kingdom agreed that any one of their three sons would do an honorable job in succeeding them.

The king and queen's youngest son was named Adam. With his golden hair, sky-blue eyes, and an air of mischievousness, thirteen year old Adam made everyone around him laugh. He could get a little rowdy sometimes, but he had the remarkable ability to make everyone around him feel a little more relaxed.

Then there was the middle son, Samuel. With chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes, Sam, while still very attractive, was not as comely as his younger brother. However, he made up for it with his compassion and kindness. He could not bear to pass a homeless or hungry person without giving them some food or spare coins. He was also very wise; while only nineteen, he could calculate battle strategies or crop requirements with only his mind. He could certainly make a great ruler someday.

Of course, the heir of the throne was his twenty-two year old brother, Dean. Dean was seemingly a combination of both of his younger brothers; he had the good looks and mischievous wit of Adam, and the kindness and intelligence of Sam. Most people would argue that Dean was even more handsome than his youngest brother, and they would be right.

The crown prince possessed the most piercing green eyes to ever be seen upon the mortal earth. Looking into them, one would say that it was like staring into the heart of the green sea, for all the color and brightness they held. Dean was attractive in many other ways, of course; he was tall, athletic and muscular. His hair was a dirty blonde color, and his smooth skin was sun-kissed and unblemished. The lightest of freckles were sprinkled across his cheeks, and his nose was as straight as an arrow. He had high cheekbones and a strong jawline that made most of the village women swoon.

Yes, Dean was very handsome. One could even say he was beautiful. But his beauty, sadly, was the thing that got him into trouble in the first place.

* * *

As the crown prince, Dean often rode at the head of the army, whenever the kingdom's military left to fight. He escorted them to the gate of the city, then ride back to the palace.

On one particular day, Dean was riding back alone. This was unusual, as Sam usually rode with him, but Sam had fallen ill. Dean was riding his sleek, black horse, Baby, through the streets of the village back to the castle when he heard it.

"It's the crown prince!" a woman's voice shouted excitedly. A few more girls screamed.

Dean internally rolled his eyes. Yes, the people in the village were his subjects, and one day he would be in charge of ruling them, but sometimes their awe of him was annoying. He didn't think he was much different in that way of personality than them; it wasn't like he was a god or anything.

He had just decided to ignore the shrieking girls when he heard it: "He's Michael on Earth!"

He pulled Baby's reins to slow her down, and turned around in his saddle. "What did you say?" he asked, slightly scared.

"Michael on Earth!" the girl screamed again. Dean vaguely recognized her; her name was Ruby, and she used to work in the palace kitchens.

"Michael is a god," Dean calmly stated. Being compared to a god was no small thing; what if Michael, the god of love and beauty, became angry at it? "Meanwhile, I am not. I will never be as great as Michael."

"Michael on Earth!" another girl screamed.

"I am not Michael on Earth!" Dean announced loudly, his tone of voice prompting all of the girls into silence. "And I never will be. Michael is a god, and to compare me to him is utter blasphemy, even though I take it as a compliment. Go to his temple and pray for forgiveness, that he does not smite you where you stand. You would think for such mature women, you would know not to insult a god!"

The women slunk away, humiliated, and Dean sighed and continued on his way home.

* * *

Meanwhile on Olympus, Michael was infuriated. How dare those stupid mortal women compare Prince Dean to the god of love and beauty himself. Michael did have to admit that Dean had been blessed with exceptionally good looks, but he did not even come close to comparing to the god.

What could he do to Dean to prove that the prince was nothing but a bug to be crushed under foot? Michael thought and thought, until he finally had a brilliant plan.

First, he placed a curse upon Dean. Any princess vying for Dean's hand in marriage would mysteriously disappear, leaving no one for Dean to wed. He wouldn't look so handsome then, if no one wanted to marry him!

The second part of his plan involved his favorite son. "Castiel!" Michael called from the throne room in his palace. He knew his son must be somewhere upstairs.

He waited a few seconds, then called again. "Castiel!"

"Yes, father?" Castiel appeared from a doorway to Michael's left. "How may I serve you, Father?"

Michael took a second to admire his son. Although the winged god's mother was Naomi, the goddess of war, Castiel resembled his father in both looks and attitude. As the god of love, he was more mild mannered, more inclined to love than war, more peaceful. His also had the same dark brown hair and blue eyes. If Michael was being honest, he would say that Castiel had even more beautiful eyes than him. His were a beautiful mix of blue-green, but the eyes of his son were a beautiful cornflower blue color.

"How may I serve you, Father?" Castiel repeated, holding his golden bow nervously. A quiver of sharp-tipped arrows hung from his tan, sculpted shoulder.

"Someone on earth is causing me quite the headache, my boy," Michael told him.

"What do you need me to do to them?" Castiel asked, flapping his wings as if preparing for flight.

"People having been calling this certain boy 'Michael on Earth.' It is clearly not acceptable," Michael huffed.

"A horrible offense, Father," Castiel replied, bowing his head slightly. "What should I do to him?"

"I need you to prick him with one of his arrows while he is sleeping. Then, you will find a hideous old hag and place her next to his bed, and when he wakes up, she will be the first thing he sees. He will fall in love with her, and then he will marry her, and he will be ruined!"

"It is an ingenious plan, Father," Castiel assured him, smiling hesitantly. He did not approve of his father's cruelty, especially since it sounded like this boy hadn't asked to be called 'Michael on Earth.' "May I see the boy so I know who my target is and what he looks like?"

Michael sighed and waved his hand. A scrying bowl appeared in front of them, and an amphora of oil appeared in Michael's hand. He poured it in, waved his hand again above it, and said, "Show me Dean."

The oil began churning, until it revealed a picture of a boy sleeping peacefully. Castiel stepped closer to the bowl to take a better look at his target. "Hmm," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "He is very handsome. Beautiful, even. I can see why someone might mistake him for a mortal version of you."

Michael looked at him, anger burning in his eyes. "I am the god of beauty, not him. No mortal even comes close to comparing to me!"

Castiel frowned. "Of course, Father. I was just saying that the boy is handsome. I will carry out your plan right away."

"I have business to attend to with Naomi," Michael exclaimed. "When I return, I will see if you have finished the plan correctly. Do not mess this up, Castiel, or I will pluck the feathers from your wings one by one!"

Castiel stepped back, resisting the urge to flinch away. Michael had done that before, and it was very painful. It took a long time for him to heal, even for a god.

"Go on!" Michael shouted, and Castiel nodded once before he vanished in a flurry of feathers.

* * *

Castiel quickly discovered that this "Dean" was much more handsome up close. He was infinitely more attractive than Michael, at least in Castiel's opinion.

Stealthily, he drew an arrow from his quiver and held it in his left hand, all while slowly creeping towards the bed Dean slept upon. He knew that there was no reason to creep, since he was invisible and could not be seen or heard, but moving slowly was simply his instinct.

Once he reached the bedside, he gently placed a hand on Dean's left bicep, meaning to turn the prince so that his heart would be vulnerable. Castiel had long since figured out that a prick to the heart area from one of his arrows would mean that the love it caused would be very strong.

However, as soon as Dean was facing him, the prince's eyes shot open and seemed to meet Castiel's perfectly. It was like he knew the god was there, even though he couldn't see, feel, or hear him.

As for Castiel, he was entranced with Dean's eyes. They were like the most vivid emerald, the most glowing peridot, the freshest green grass-

The arrow slipped from Castiel's hand and hit the ground with a clatter that only the god could hear. Castiel hissed and stepped away from the side of Dean's bed, and the prince broke eye contact.

The god looked down at his hand. He glanced down just in time to see a single drop of golden ichor, the blood of the gods, drip to the ground from the prick on his finger. A prick caused by his arrow.

"Father is going to kill me," he groaned. "He's going to kill me for not completing the plan, and-" he looked at Dean again and was suddenly filled with overwhelming desire. "And for falling in love with his mortal enemy."

* * *

"Tell me how the plan went, Castiel," Michael said, once he returned from his meeting with Naomi.

Castiel had had time to think of an excuse for Dean not falling in love with a hag. Of course, he had help; Gabriel, the mischievous messenger of the gods, helped him come up with a plan.

"I thought of something even better than a hag while I was down on earth, Father," Castiel said, bowing his head obediently.

"What?" Michael growled. "Gods, you are stupid! Why could you not have just followed the original plan!"

"I think you will like the new one, Father," Castiel said, ducking away instinctively. "Just hear me out!"

Michael sat down in his throne. "Fine. Tell me, and then I will decide whether or not I feel like pulling out your feathers."

"Gabriel was telling me about this grotesque monster that lives far, far away from Dean's kingdom. Apparently, it likes to take its victims to its castle and fatten them up for a couple of months before it eats them. I was thinking, Dean's parents will be worried that Dean does not have suitors anymore, so they most likely will go to the oracle. We can get the oracle to tell them that their son is destined to be married to a monster, and then we can bring him to the palace of the monster. A real monster is much worse than an old woman, do you not agree?"

Michael said nothing for a few seconds, just gazed at Castiel, before finally breaking out into a malicious grin. "I did not know you had this in you, Castiel! That is brilliant!"

Castiel smiled weakly. "Thank you, Father." Did I mention that the monster is really just me? he thought to himself. "Does this mean you will not be pulling feathers out of my wings tonight?"

"Of course not!" Michael said happily. "Why, I should celebrate! My enemy is not going to be around much longer!"

* * *

Dean couldn't believe that his parents would just abandon their first-born son atop this mountain, waiting to be taken by this she-beast that he was to marry. He was the heir to the throne, the crown prince. How dare they!

He supposed the oracle was right. You couldn't go against the will of the gods, and if the gods willed this, so be it. Dean knew it was this was thanks to that idiotic 'Michael on Earth' comment. If Ruby had never said it, this would have never happened.

It had been an hour since they had left him on the cliff, and just now something was starting to happen. Slowly, a human-like figure formed itself out of solid wind in front of him.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Dean asked, feeling slightly frightened.

"Do not be afraid, Dean," the shape said. "My name is Samandriel, the West Wind. I have come to take you to the palace of my master."

"Your master?" Dean demanded. "You mean the monster that the oracle told my mother and father about?"

"He is not a monster," Samandriel said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, stepping forward a bit, moving closer to the humanoid shape. His clothes were rippling in the harsh wind. They were his finest clothes. He had been dressed like he was being buried; it was as if he were already dead.

"Come, let me show you," Samandriel said. Without another word, Dean was swept up by the wind.

* * *

Dean was pretty sure he had never seen a more beautiful palace. Of course, the only palace he had ever seen was his own, so he couldn't really make a comparison, but this one was much more beautiful. Its white stone towered spiraled as high as the clouds, and the whole structure was surrounded by fields of green grass and lavender flowers. Dean could see windows made of colored glass, and he was pretty sure he could see gemstones set into the stone.

The gentle West Wind guided him inside the castle, which was just as beautiful as the outside. The walls were made of more smooth white stones, and golden lamps hung from every post, lighting the house. It smelled of sweet incense, and he could hear the faint ringing of bells. Dean was certain that the master of this castle was not a monster; a monster could never own something so beautiful.

"The others can take over from here," Samandriel whispered in his ear.

"Who else is here?" Dean wondered aloud. "I don't see anyone. Samandriel?"

But the wind was already gone, and already other wisps of white light were moving down the hallway towards him.

One stopped right in front of him and took the form of a ghostly woman with curly hair. She bowed. "I am Hannah, the second-in-command of this castle." Her voice was gentle and airy, like one expect a cloud to sound if it could speak. "We are here to serve you and take care of you."

"You're the second-in-command?" Dean inquired. Hannah nodded. "Who is the first?"

"The master, or course," she said.

"Well, who is the master?" Dean questioned.

"That is not for me to disclose," she replied. "You will meet the master later tonight. For now, you must get clean, and you must eat."

Dean looked down at himself. Even though Samandriel wind had felt gentle, his clothes with ripped and shredded in multiple places. "Okay, I guess," Dean said reluctantly. "That sounds doable."

* * *

Hannah told Dean that "the master" would be returning past nightfall. To pass the four or so hours, Dean had bathed, eaten a feast, and started to explore the castle. It had seemed gigantic from the outside, but from the inside it felt even more enormous. He would be exploring for days, maybe even a few weeks.

Once darkness had fallen outside, Hannah led Dean to a large bedroom. Dean set his lamp on one of the beside tables and looked around the room. It was huge, and the bed was big enough to fit at least four people, but there were no windows.

"Why are there no windows in here?" Dean asked Hannah.

"No light is permitted in this room after night falls," she answered obediently. "The stars are very bright outside, and they would make everything in the room visible."

"Why isn't light allowed?"

"It is one of the rules of my master, and so I do not question it," Hannah replied. "That being said, I must ask you to extinguish your lamp."

"But-"

"Do not disobey," she ordered in a calm, polite tone. "Extinguish your lamp."

Dean rolled his eyes and blew out the lamp's small flame. "When is your master coming?" he demanded.

"I do not know the exact time of the arrival of my master," she told him. "If you wait for them in here, they will come eventually."

Dean sighed and collapsed onto the bed. "I just hope they come soon."

"As do I," Hannah agrees. "It is always tense in the household when my master is not here. Goodnight, Dean. I wish you sweet dreams."

* * *

Dean is on the brink of sleep when he hears the door to the bedroom open. "Hannah?" he murmured sleepily, wondering if the head servant had come back to inform him that the master wouldn't be coming back tonight after all. Dean had waited for almost four hours before he decided to give up and go to sleep.

"I am not Hannah," a deep, gravelly voice said.

Dean bolted upright in bed. "Who are you?" he growled.

"I am the master of this house," the voice stated. Dean can tell that the owner of the voice is coming nearer to the bed by the sound of footsteps and the increase in the volume of the voice. "I am your husband."

"I did not know you were a man," Dean responded. "I thought you were a she-beast. That is what my parents told me."

The footsteps stopped. "Does that bother you?" the voice asked softly. "The fact that I am male?"

Dean hesitated for a few seconds, then spoke. "Not really, I suppose. As long as you treat me well, your gender doesn't matter to me."

The man breathed what sounds like a sigh of relief. "I could argue the point that I am not technically a man, but for the sake of saving time let us just say that I am."

"What are you, then?" Dean inquired. "Technically?"

"I am everything, and I am nothing. I am not man nor monster, but something in between."

"You're a god?" Dean guessed. He could feel a weight drop onto the other side of the bed, and the mattress sank a little. The man- his husband- must have sat down.

"Very good," the man said. "You got that very quickly. Though I am afraid I cannot reveal which god I am."

"Why are there no lights allowed in here?"

"I cannot allow you to see who I am," the man said. Dean registered a hint of sadness in his voice, like the fact that he must keep himself hidden pained him.

"Why not?" Dean demanded, feeling angry. He had been taken from his family and dumped in front of the castle belonging to this man, and then the man wouldn't even tell Dean who he was? It was ridiculous! "Are you afraid that I'll be petrified by your disgusting monster face?"

"I assure you that I am not like Medusa, Dean," the voice said. "I am not a monster, and I would like to think that my face is not hideous."

"How can I believe you? How do I know that you're not really a monster?"

The man clicked his tongue. "Love cannot exist if there is no trust. Dean, you must trust me."

"Can you at least tell me your name?"

The man sighed again. "I cannot. I am truly sorry, Dean."

"Is there at least something I can call you?" Dean asked, feeling more and more disheartened by the second. "There is no way I'm calling you 'master.' Ever."

"You can call me whatever you want. But please, do not make it mean. And I insist that you do not refer to me as your master. You are free to wander around wherever you want. Just because you live here does not mean that I own you."

* * *

A Few Weeks Later

The past few weeks had been odd for Dean. Not in a bad way. Just… odd.

It took him a whole week to fully explore the palace, and after that he headed outside for new adventures. There was a forest behind the palace, and Dean enjoyed spending his days wandering through it.

After a full day of exploring, Dean would return to the mansion to bathe and eat. He would always eat alone, with Hannah standing next to him, ready to get him anything he needed. Dean thought it was a little annoying, but he had to admire Hannah's ability to stand still without speaking for long periods of time.

After dinner came Dean's favorite part of the day- bedtime. He would eagerly wait for his husband to enter the room. Sometimes he would wait up for hours; he had once never missed the man's return.

They would talk for hours and hours, until Dean became so tired that he nodded off in the middle the sentence, or he simply became too tired to open his mouth and speak. Then he would curl up at his husband's side and let sleep pull him away.

When he woke up, his husband was always gone.

Dean had tried waking up early enough to see the man while he was still sleeping, but since there was no light in the room, he could never tell what time it was.

Tonight, though, Dean had a question. A question he was determined to get an answer to.

* * *

Once his husband entered the room, Dean asked immediately.

"Do you think my brothers could visit me tomorrow, Love?" he asked, clenching his fists in anticipation of his husband's answer.

Dean heard graceful footsteps make their way over to the bed, then heard the mattress creak slightly as his husband sat on top of it. "Why would you want to see them all of a sudden, Dean?"

Dean let his husband's voice flow over him. Oh, how we wished he could put a name and a face to that voice! But he remembered the words 'Love cannot exist if there is no trust.' And Dean trusted his husband. So he would wait until the man felt safe enough to reveal his identity. "I've gotten bored exploring palace and the forest behind it, and I want to see them. Seriously, it is so boring here during the daytime, without you here. Couldn't you just stay for one day?"

"You know I cannot do that, Dean," his husband said. "And I do not think inviting your brothers over is a good idea. They might ask the wrong questions."

"I miss them, Love. I want to see them. Please?"

He hears his husband sigh. "Fine. I suppose I could have Samandriel bring your brothers here, to the palace. Would you like that?"

Dean smiled victoriously. "I would like that very much. Thank you, Love."

"Anything for you, Dean."

* * *

Sam and Adam arrived two days later, brought to the palace by Samandriel. Dean ran up to them and hugged them both so tightly that they thought he would never let go. When he finally did, it was only to grab their hands and pull them into the palace.

"I'm so excited you guys are here!" Dean exclaimed, once they're all seated at the dining table with a meal in front of them. "It gets so boring around here during the day."

"What about the she-beast you married?" Adam asked, an eyebrow raised. "Isn't she around during the day?"

Dean hesitated. Was it worth telling his brothers that he now had a husband, not a wife? They would probably only tease him about it. "She, uh… she's away during the day. Very busy, you know…"

"What does she do?" Sam asked, eyes widening in curiosity. "Does she go out during the day to travel around Greece and eat people?"

"What?" Dean yelped. "No, of course not! She… I think the oracle was wrong. She doesn't sound like or a monster, or feel like a monster, and her shape doesn't look like a monster shape. I think she's just an ordinary girl."

"No way," Adam laughed. "The oracle is never wrong. She's a monster!"

"What's her name?" Sam questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"Um… Lisa," Dean lied. Where had he pulled that name out of?

"Wait, did you just say that her shape doesn't look like a monster shape?" Adam inquired. "Does she look like a monster?"

"I… I don't know…" Dean confessed. "I've never actually seen her face, I've only seen her in the dark. She won't allow any lights in our bedroom."

"That's because she's a monster!" Adam said victoriously. "I told you, Dean. The oracle is never wrong."

"Dean, she could eat you," Sam said, sounding worried. "You need to find out what kind of monster she is."

"She has asked me not to look at her face," Dean told them. "It's the least I can do for her, considering that she lets me live here."

Adam glanced around. "Yes, it is very nice here. I wonder if she steals people's money after she eats them. It would make sense as to why this palace is so big and grand."

"She's not a monster!" Dean snapped.

"There's only one way you can know for sure," Sam whispered across the table. "You have to sneak a light into your room and look at her."

"No," Dean responded. "I won't betray her trust like that. I promised."

"We only care about your safety, Dean," Sam replied. "We don't want you to get eaten, brother."

"Yeah, Dean," Adam chimed in. "We're your brothers, and we love you. We don't want you to die."

"Here," Sam whispered, pulling something out of his belt. He handed Dean a knife; it was wicked looking, with a long serrated blade and strange symbols carved into the medal. Its handle was made of a sturdy wood. "This is a special monster-killing knife made by the priestess of Meg, back at home. It draws its powers from the Underworld, supposedly. If you cut your wife with it, it will burn her and kill her. It's the only way she won't kill you."

Dean's brain was screaming not to, but his hand reached out and took the knife from Sam, before sliding it into his belt and concealing it under his shirt.

"I… I can't," he said, clenching his eyes shut tightly.

"Yes, you can," Sam responded. "Save your own life, Dean!"

"But… I… I… you know what? Get out of here!" Dean shouted. "I invited you here, and you come and speak lies about my wife. Get out!"

Both Adam and Sam scrambled out of their chairs and ran for the front doors of the palace.

Behind them, Dean was left with only one thought: what if my brothers are right?

* * *

His brothers' words stuck with Dean for days. For five nights he stayed unusually quiet, even so much that his husband asked if he was ill. "No, Love," Dean replied. "I just miss my brothers and my mother and father."

On the sixth day, Dean's curiosity got the best of him. In the middle of the day, while Hannah was preparing lunch and not following him around, he stole a lantern from one of the unused bedrooms in the palace and hid it in the cabinet of his bedside table. Then he stole a single match from the kitchen, so he could ignite the lantern and be able to see.

He didn't hide the knife. The day after Sam gave it to him, he flung it off the cliff where he had arrived at the palace. Even if his husband did turn out to be a hideous monster, Dean wouldn't kill him. Monster or not, Dean loved his husband.

All that was left to do was wait until his husband fell asleep.

* * *

Dean had managed to get his husband to fall asleep early by telling him that he didn't feel like talking, but he was still terrified that the man was somehow able to see him, even in his sleep. He didn't want his husband to know that he had broken his promise.

It was incredibly difficult to light the match in the dark, then light the wick of the lantern with it, but after about five minutes, Dean managed to do it. He stood up shakily, the lantern in his hand, and walked slowly towards his husband's side of the bed.

What he found was unexpected. The first thing he saw was a pair of black wings. They were incredibly shiny, and the dim light from the lantern reflected off of them, throwing light around the entire room.

He couldn't believe that he hadn't realized that his husband had a pair of wings. He'd been sharing a bed with the man for almost six weeks. Dean reached out and touched them lightly. Then he jerked back quickly, because his husband turned over onto his side and sniffed. His wings must have been sensitive.

After staring at the glossy ebony feathers for a few more seconds, Dean lifted the lantern higher in order to get a few of his husband's face.

The sight he was met with was unbelievable.

Laying in Dean's bed was the most beautiful man the prince had ever seen. Short dark brown hair, pale skin, full pink lips, a straight nose, topped off with a little bit of stubble. Dean let his eyes travel down the man's body, which was built like a athlete. His eyes traveled up to the man's shoulders, where the two wings sprouted out of his flesh.

So he was technically a monster, though still a man. Wings qualified as a monster, right? His brothers were right. His actions were justified.

But hadn't his husband said that he was a god? And the only male god that had wings was…

"Castiel," Dean whispered. His husband was the god of love. He gasped, awestruck, before scrambling back hastily.

Unfortunately, enough of the lantern wax had melted that when Dean moved, it splashed out of the lantern.

And landed right onto Castiel's bare shoulder.

In an instant, Castiel was on his feet, staring Dean down. "How could you, Dean?" he demanded.

Dean stared into his husband's beautiful blue eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice felt like it was trying not to work. "I…"

"You promised me that you would not try to look at me!" the god howled.

"Love, I…"

"Do not call me that!" Castiel shouted. "I told you that love cannot exist if there is no trust, and you have betrayed mine!" He unfurled his wings, which were so huge that they hit the walls and shattered them, exposing both Dean and Castiel to the open night sky. Rain came pouring down on them.

"Please, wait!" Dean cried. "I didn't mean…"

"You did not mean to look, Dean?" Castiel roared furiously, wiping water off his face. "Yes, you did! And you cannot take that back!"

"I'm sorry," Dean sobbed, falling to his knees in the puddle underneath him

"I am sorry, too, Dean," the god said mournfully, shaking his wings out. "If you would have waited, I would have revealed myself in due time. Mortals have always had problems with patience, it seems."

"Give me another chance," Dean implored.

"There can be no second chances." Castiel pulled his bow from underneath the bed. "Goodbye, my love."

"Wait!" Dean begged, tears and rain water streaming down his face. "Castiel, please! Please, Cas!"

Cas froze at that, looking down at him. "You could have called me that forever if you had been strong and had patience. I am truly sorry, Dean, but it can never happen now. Goodbye forever."

With a blur of black feathers, Dean was left alone to sob in the wrecked remains of his bedroom.

* * *

Castiel barely had time to limp into his Father's palace before he was being pushed into his bedroom. "How dare you do this, Castiel!" Michael screamed, lashing out at his son. "Marry my mortal enemy! I am your father!"

"I got pricked with my own arrow, it is not my fault!" Castiel cried.

"You pricked yourself!" Michael yelled back. "Don't try to shift the blame onto an inanimate object. It is all on you, Castiel!"

"I am sorry, Father!" Castiel raised his hands to defend himself against his Father's strikes.

Suddenly, Michael stopped. "I bet you are," he sneered. "But just in case you are not, I am not letting you out of here until I have found Dean and killed him! And you will get his head on a spike, sent to your room!"

"No!" Cas pleaded. "Please, Father. Punish me all you want, but do not hurt him!"

"It is a little too late for that, Castiel!" Michael said, before slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

* * *

Dean had cried and cried and cried and cried until he cried himself to sleep in his bed. The bed that he used to share with Cas, until he had to go and ruin it.

When he woke up, his room was the only thing he could see. The entire palace was gone. It was like it had never even existed.

Dean was lucky enough to have a change of clothes in the wardrobe in his bedroom, so he changed out of his rain soaked ones and into a fresh pair.

Then he set off for the cliff.

When he reached it, he could see a woman sitting on the edge of it. Confused by the fact that he had never seen another real person here, he walked closer. "Who are you?" he asked gently.

The woman turned around, her eyes blazing furiously. "Hannah?" Dean exclaimed, surprised.

"You bastard!" she screamed, charging at him. He easily caught her by the wrists and held her away from his body. "I only had five more years to work for him and then I would have been immortal, and you took it away! You made him leave! Why did you make him leave? I hate you!"

"Woah, calm down," Dean told her.

"I… will not… calm down!" she shrieked, beating on Dean's chest with a fist.

He let go of her wrists. "I am truly sorry, Hannah!"

"No, you are not!" she screeched. Then, with a surprising amount of strength, pushed him backwards, off the cliff.

* * *

Luckily, Samandriel caught Dean in a gust and put him on the ground.

"At least one person still likes me," Dean said weakly.

"Oh, no," the wind said. "I hate you. Very much so. But Castiel is still my master, and he would not want me to let you die. So I won't."

"Thanks, I guess," Dean said.

"Now, get away," the wind said coldly. "You are no longer wanted here."

* * *

Dean knew he had to find a way to win Castiel back. And he knew that he had to start with winning Michael over first. That is how this whole thing had gotten started, and that is how this whole thing would end. He would prove to Michael that he was not trying to be a show off or get himself deemed 'Michael on Earth.' He just wanted to prove that he loved Castiel and would do anything to get him back.

The first temple he stumbled upon was a temple to Garth, the god of agriculture.

He knelt before one of the smaller altars at the back of the temple. "Oh, great Garth of the bountiful harvest," he prayed, bowing his head and closing his eyes. "I implore your help."

"You have it, son of John," a voice said from above him.

Dean looked up to find a skinny man staring down at him. He had mousy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a tired smile.

"Lord Garth," he said, bowing his head again.

"Oh, you have bowed already," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "What can I do for you?"

"Why are you so eager to help me?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Your father makes a big sacrifice to me every year," Garth explained. "But, that is not really why I wanted to help you. It is not everyday that you see a beloved of Castiel."

"I… that's what I wanted to ask your help with." Dean took a deep breath. "I need to know how to make amends with Lord Michael."

"Oh, your poor soul," he crooned. "I cannot help you with that. If Michael wants to hate you forever, he will hate you forever. Nothing you could ever say could possibly change his mind."

"I have to try," Dean insisted.

"It is futile. I heard from Gabriel that Michael has Castiel locked up in a room in his palace. You will never see him again, dear, not if Michael does not want you to."

"I don't care about what Michael wants," Dean said. "I will get him back."

"I wish you luck on your attempt," Garth said. "Goodbye, son of John."

When Dean looked up again, he was gone.

* * *

The next temple Dean found was a shrine to Gabriel, the messenger god.

"Gabriel," he prayed, "if you can hear me, please tell Castiel that I'm coming for him. I know Michael has him locked up. Tell him that I love him, and that I'm sorry, and that I hope he can someday forgive me."

No response came, but Dean could have sworn that the fire burned a lot brighter while he was praying. And if that wasn't a sign, or at least a glimpse of hope, then nothing was.

* * *

The last of the three temples that Dean entered was the temple of Ellen, the goddess of the hearth and the home.

At that little back altar, Dean prayed harder than he ever had before. "Please, Lady Ellen. I just want my life back. Please."

"Child, it is never going to be the same," the voice of a woman said from his right.

Dean opened his eyes. "Lady Ellen," he said, bowing his head to her in reverence.

"Do you really wanna know what you can do to get your husband back?" the goddess inquired, studying him with her warm brown eyes.

"Yes, that's all I want to know."

"You are not gonna like it," she warned him, before pulling her dirty blonde hair away from her face.

"If it helps me, I don't care," he said politely. "Please, my lady. Tell me."

"You have gotta go to Michael's temple and beg."

Dean took a deep breath and nodded. "I can do that."

"Hold on, I was not finished yet," she continued. "You have got to beg, and then you have got to offer yourself up as a servant. Say you will do anything he wants."

"A servant?" He raised an eyebrow. "But I am a crown prince…"

"And how much do you love your husband?" she questioned. "Do you value your title more than you value him?"

"No, my lady," Dean replied instantly. "My title is nothing compared to him."

"Then you will do what Michael says," she told him. "And you will do it right. And eventually you will win his favor back, and he will let you be with Castiel again."

"Thank you, Lady Ellen," Dean said gratefully, standing. "Your advice is very valuable to me."

"You're welcome," she responded. "Oh, and if you ever see your father again, tell him thank you for his sacrifices to me. Barely anyone gives anything to me anymore, but he never forgets."

"I will," Dean promised.

And the Lady Ellen went up in smoke, before disappearing completely.

* * *

When Dean pictured begging Michael for forgiveness, he did not picture this. Being flung around, pulled by the hair, and scratched by the vengeful god.

"How dare you set foot in one of my temples," Michael boomed. "This is a sacred place, and you are desecrating it."

"I have come…" Dean took a labored breath. "I have come to beg for your forgiveness."

Michael flung him to the ground again. "Then grovel like the dirt you are."

Dean flattened himself to the floor. "I wish only to seek your forgiveness, Lord Michael."

"Beg harder!" Michael bellowed.

"I will do anything you wish for me to do," Dean chanted. "In the name of love, in the name of your specialty. My gods, I love your son, and if I have to clean scum from the dirtiest places in the world to get him back, I will gladly do it."

Michael stopped pacing. "The dirtiest place on earth, huh?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"I was not thinking quite along those lines, but how about… four tasks? If you accomplish them- and I doubt you will- then I will bless your marriage. But I have no doubt in my mind that you will fail miserably. In fact, I think you will do so badly that I swear on the River Styx I'll bless your marriage is your complete them."

"Love can light the darkest corners of the world, my lord," Dean said. "And love can get me through anything. Put me to the test. I gladly accept."

* * *

"Castiel?" Gabriel whispered outside the small window. "Castiel, are you in there?"

"Gabe!" the god of love cried happily. "Help me get out of here! I need to help Dean, I heard what my father is putting him up to."

"Dean can handle it," Gabe assured him. "By the way, he told me to tell you that he loves you, and that he is sorry, and that he hopes you can forgive him."

Castiel sighed. "I never stopped loving him. I just overreacted."

Gabe rolled his eyes. "I'll say. You made your bedroom explode."

"That was not me, that was my wings!" Castiel said, trying to defend himself. "Anyway, you have got to help Dean, there is no way he can complete those tasks on his own."

Gabe bit his bottom lip. "Maybe. I'll see what I can do."

Castiel sighed in relief. "Thanks, Gabe. You are the best friend I have ever had."

* * *

"Do you see this pile of grain on the floor?" Michael asked Dean.

"Yes, my Lord," Dean answered obediently. "I see it."

"Sort it!" the god ordered. "I want five different piles: barley, wheat, oats, corn, and rye. If I find even one in the wrong pile, you have failed the test, and I cut your head off and deliver it to Castiel on a plate."

Dean gulped. "Yes, my Lord. I won't fail."

"I expect you will, but we will see, I suppose," Michael said haughtily. "You have until the sun rises."

"But that's only about five hours!" Dean protested angrily. "That's completely unfair."

MIchael smirked. "I never said it had to be fair. You have five hours. I would get going." He locked the door behind him.

* * *

After three hours, Dean had sorted a third of the pile. He had given up on even trying to finish the rest, he would never make it. He had failed. Castiel would wake up to his head on a plate.

"No," Dean said aloud, even though no one could hear him. "I won't let it happen. But… I can't finish this all."

Dean glanced down at the pile of grain. Were some of the grains… moving?

Dean moved closer to look. Yes, they were moving! Tiny ants were carrying them into the separate piles.

Unable to help himself, Dean began to laugh. "Thank you, whichever god did this. I'm guessing Gabriel."

He scooped a handful of grain, careful not to hit any of the ants, and began to sort them with renewed energy.

* * *

When Michael barged in the last morning, Dean had just put the last kernel of corn into its pile.

"I completed the first task, my Lord," Dean said innocently.

Michael screamed.

* * *

The next test was the next afternoon. Michael dragged Dean out to a grazing field full of sheep.

"You see these sheep?" Michael asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Dean answered obediently. "I see them."

"These are the sheep of the sun. Their wool is golden. I want a new cape. Get me some of the wool." He threw Dean a burlap sack. "Fill it up. You have until sunset."

"This is easy," Dean said under his breath.

Michael smiled maliciously. "Oh, and did I mention that the sheep are carnivorous? Watch out!"

* * *

It took Dean three hours to figure out how to get the wool. By then, the sheep had gorged themselves, then went through the forest to the pasture where they napped.

The idea came to Dean quickly- pick the wool that the sheep had left on the tree branches in the forest.

He plucked piece after piece after piece after piece of wool from the branches, no matter how small they were. Slowly but surely, his bag filled up.

But by the time that the sun had almost reached the horizon, Dean's bag was only three fourths of the way full. He was just about to give up when he saw it. The biggest clump of wool yet, caught on a rock in the stream.

When Michael came to collect, Dean handed him a bag full of wool.

"What is this?" Michael said, leaning towards the bag and wrinkling his nose.

"That would be the wool you asked for, my Lord," Dean answered innocently.

"Well, why is the wool wet?" Michael questioned, a disgusted look on his face. "I did not ask for wet wool."

"You never said it had to be dry, my Lord," Dean answered, making sure to keep a perfectly straight face.

Michael's scream scared away all the crows in the forest.

* * *

The third test was a day later. Michael took Dean to a mountain top and handed him an amphora. "The river that runs down this mountain is the beginning of the River Styx. Fill the amphora with water from it. And make sure you don't fall on the rocks, since they can be very slippery. The water will burn your skin if it comes into contact with it for too long. You have two hours."

After Michael had disappeared, Dean looked at the empty amphora hopelessly, then glanced up at the way to get to the river. It was a thin strip of path on the side of a sixty foot cliff; there was no way Dean would able to cross it without slipping and plummeting to his death.

"This is it," he cried aloud. "I can't do this! I'll never see Castiel again!"

Suddenly, something grabbed the amphora out of his hand. "Hey!" he yelled. "Bring that… oh…"

A giant eagle had scooped the amphora up and was carrying it to the waterfall. "Thank you, Father Carver," Dean prayed, raising his arms in celebration.

The eagle brought him back an amphora that was full of Styx water.

When Michael arrived at the deadline, he was infuriated. "How…" he spluttered, unable to form words.

"I filled up the amphora with water from the River Styx, my Lord," Dean said innocently.

"You think this is funny, huh?" Michael sneered. "You think it is funny that you have passed all these tests, when I thought you could not? Well, I have news for you! The last test is the hardest one yet."

"None of these test were particularly hard, my Lord," Dean replied quietly.

"Shut up!" Michael shrieked.

* * *

"Hey, Gabriel, do you think that you could possibly pick the lock on my door?" Castiel asked his friend.

"I can pick any lock, anywhere," the messenger god bragged. "Why?"

"My father is sending Dean to the Underworld," Castiel said. "No mortal has ever returned from the Underworld unscathed. I have to follow Dean and save him."

"Yeah, I'll help you," Gabe said. "But I have to wait until your father is out of the house. He is crazy, and I am not gonna be messing with him."

"Thank you, Gabriel," Castiel answered, breathing a sigh of relief. "I owe you."

* * *

"This last task is, as I said yesterday, the hardest," Michael told Dean as they stood on the banks of the River Styx at the entrance to the Underworld. "Meg has four rings that connect together to form a powerful weapon. If you can even reach the palace of Crowley, ask for her. Tell her that I sent you, and she will give you the rings in their box. Then you must exit the Underworld and bring the rings' box to me. But if you connect them, then you will hold enough power to get through anything."

"I understand, my Lord," Dean said obediently.

"You have an unlimited amount of time to complete this task, since you will never complete it anyway." Michael handed him a coin. "Here is your fare for the ferry."

"I will need a coin for the ferry ride on the way back, my Lord," Dean replied, taking the single golden drachma with one hand.

Michael rolled his eyes. "I doubt that you will even get to use it, but I suppose I could give you one more."

"Thank you, my Lord," Dean said.

"Have fun in Tartarus, Dean," Michael said with a smirk then disappeared.

* * *

Charon, the ferrymen, didn't even notice that Dean was still living. Or maybe he did. Maybe he just didn't care, as long as Dean payed the ferry toll.

The river itself was disgusting. Many different items floated around in its murky waters. Dean even saw a few dismembered body parts in the gloomy mix.

Once he departed from the ferry, Dean had to travel past Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog of the Underworld. He was chained to the entrance fence of the Underworld, and made sure that no one tried to escape.

Dean got past the dog quickly, and soon he was sneaking up the path to the castle. In the distance, he could hear both laughter and screaming. Elysium and Tartarus, respectively.

Would he end up in Elysium if he died down here? Going through his life, Dean couldn't think of anything exceptionally good that would even make him a candidate to get into Elysium.

Stop thinking like that, Dean thought to himself. You're not going to end up there, because you're going to survive and get out of her and get Castiel back.

He eventually reached the palace, after what felt like hours of trekking. He went in through the front gates, and was surprised to find both Crowley and Meg sitting on their thrones, waiting for him.

"My Lady," he said, bowing in front of Meg. "My Lord," he continued, kneeling in front of Crowley's throne.

"You would bow to a woman first?" Crowley's voice echoed around the throne room.

"Oh, butt off, my love," Meg said, grinning. "I like this one. What can we do for you?"

"I was sent by Michael to bring back the four rings, in their box," Dean replied.

"Ah, yes, Michael told me that you would be coming!" Meg exclaimed happily, jumping up out of her throne. "Let me just go and fetch them for you, and then we will send you on your way." She disappeared into a corridor off of the throne room.

Crowley studied Dean with small, narrowed brown eyes. "You are the boy that Castiel fell in love with, yes?"

"Yes, that would be me, my Lord," Dean answered.

"Hmm. And now Michael is using you like a puppet to run errands for him? Is he claiming that he will bless your marriage to his son if you finish all of them?"

"Yes, my Lord," Dean replied.

"He is using you, boy," Crowley said bitterly. "Just thought I would let you know."

"Oh, I don't think so, my Lord," Dean responded. "I got him to swear on the River Styx that he would bless us if I finished these four tasks. He must keep his word."

Crowley smiled a twisted grin. "Very good. Very manipulative. That's a good trait to possess."

"Here you are!" Meg chimed, handing me a small, unmarked wooden box. "Don't open it, or the rings will fall all over and connect and you wouldn't want that!"

"No, I would not, my Lady," Dean agreed. "Thank you."

"It is no problem," Meg said, laying a hand over Crowley's. "I am always happy to help someone find love. I think what you're doing for Castiel is so cute."

"Thank you, my Lady," Dean responded. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

"How am I to get past Cerberus on my way back? His job is to catch anyone trying to escape from the Underworld, which I will be doing."

With a flick of her hand, Meg conjured up a massive bone. "Throw this at the middle head," she told Dean, handing him the bone. Dean grunted under the weight; the bone was at least thirty pounds. "The heads will fight over it, and you will be able to slip by them while they are distracted."

Dean bowed again to both rulers of the underworld. "Thank you again, your Majesties."

Meg waved him out the door. "Goodbye, now. I hope you reach the upper world!"

* * *

It took Dean at least five hours to lug the bone down a path that took three hours the first time. Maybe he was going slower because he was going uphill this time.

Once he finally reached the gates, he stopped to collect his strength. He was going to have the throw the bone at the middle head of the dog, and that would take some strength.

After about five minutes of resting, Dean decided he was ready. He was sick of the sulfur smell in the air and he just wanted to be with Castiel again.

Dean walked through the gate, and immediately all three of Cerberus's heads turned towards him. Each lip curled back in a snarl. Dean raised the bone high above his head and chucked it at the dog with all his remaining strength.

Meg was right; Dean was easily able to slip past Cerberus once all of its heads were distracted by the bone. They were snarling and growling at each other like they were ready to kill.

The real problem was getting Charon to take him back to the other shore. "The ferry only goes one way," the old man crooned, pushing back the hood of his robe. "I will not accept."

"I have a drachma," Dean told him, holding up his shiny coin. The old man reached for it feebly, but Dean held it out of reach. "I won't give it to you until you take me across on the ferry.

Charon made an ugly face at him, but in the end he shuffled aside to let Dean board the board that was going to take him to the upper world.

* * *

Once Castiel was free of his bedroom, thanks to Gabriel, he went straight to Carver, the father of all gods.

"My father has gotten out of control," Castiel stated, planting himself in front of Carver's throne. The only other gods in the room were Joanna, the goddess of the hunt and the moon, and Charlie, the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. The Greeks had affectionately nicknamed her Charlie, as she was their patron goddess. Her real name was Celeste.

"What do you mean, Castiel?" Carver asked.

"He is torturing the man I love!" he declared. "He locked me up in my room and is now using tests to make Dean think that he can win me back!"

"Your father has sworn on the River Styx that if Dean completes the tasks, he will bless your marriage. I believe he is doing the fourth one as we speak."

"That is the problem!" Castiel exclaimed. "He sent Dean to the Underworld."

Carver's facial expression changed from relaxed to angry in a matter of seconds. "Michael does not have the authority to send mortals to the Underworld. Only Crowley and I hold that power."

"Well, Michael is definitely abusing it!" Cas assured. "I have been locked in my bedroom for days without nectar and ambrosia because he is afraid that I will try to contact Dean. He pulled feathers from my wings yesterday when I told that I thought Dean was handsomer than him. He threatened to cut Dean's head off and serve it to me on a silver platter if I didn't show him enough respect. I have had enough of it! I am sick of living with him. He is insane."

"Joanna!" Carver shouted.

"Yes, Father?" Joanna responded, from her spot atop her slim silver throne.

"Hunt Michael down and bring him back to me," Carver ordered. "I am sure that he is just waiting to kill Castiel's Dean boy. Make sure he does not."

"Yes, Father." She leapt from her throne and grabbed her silver bow, running out of the great assembly room with her long blonde hair whipping around behind her.

"And you, Charlie!" Carver called.

"Yes, my liege?" Charlie answered, standing at full attention with her red hair hanging down her back.

"Think up a fitting punishment for Michael and the damage he has done to everyone involved in this."

Charlie nodded. "Yes, my liege. I will start immediately."

"And you," Carver said, turning to Castiel.

"What about me, Sir?" Castiel inquired nervously.

Carver gave him a gentle mile. "Relax, my boy. I'm not going to yell at you. Go find Dean. Bring him back safely."

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief before unfurling his wings. Some of his feathers were still missing, and it hurt to fly, but he couldn't worry about that right now. "Thank you, Sir."

Without another word, he took off into the sky.

* * *

Dean was about to die. Not literally, but figuratively. He couldn't walk another foot. But he tried anyway, thinking of Castiel, and he collapsed on the spot.

What was that Michael said about the rings? That they could give you the power to go through anything? That sounded like exactly what Dean needed now. Power. Strength.

With a flick of his hand, Dean had the bx open in front of him. "This is it," he murmured to himself under his breath. "This is going to give me the strength I need to win him back."

He fumbled with the clasp a little, but quickly got it undone. He opened the box to see… no rings. There was nothing in the box but black, dark gas.

Dean only had time to wonder what it was before the effect of the gas hit him.

He didn't even have time to blink before he was out like a light.

* * *

Castiel was becoming frantic. He couldn't find Dean anywhere. Dean wasn't at the entrance to the Underworld. Castiel had even talked to Charon, who told him that Dean had come back across. Castiel couldn't help but feel proud that Dean got out of the Underworld alive, but his pride quickly evaporated into panic.

The only other place Dean could be was on the path out of the Underworld, but the road was miles long, and Castiel would have to fly very fast with broken wings to be able to find him quickly.

The pain was unbearable, but he did it anyway. After almost an hour of searching, Castiel spotted a human figure slumped over on the side of the road. Concerned, he dove down to the ground and landed on the dusty road beside the body.

The first thing he noticed was a strange wooden box that was leaking some kind of see-through black… it was sleep.

The body was Dean's.

Castiel gasped and turned the body around. Dean's face was covered in dirt and sweat, but he still looked like the most handsome man in the world to Castiel.

Castiel took Dean into his arms. Charlie had once taught him how to revert the effects of sleep. Why couldn't he remember how to now, when it was most important? This kind of sleep could kill Dean, if he was in it for too long, and Castiel didn't know how long Dean had been knocked out.

Suddenly, he remembered. He gasped and began the procedure. He knew that once it was done, the victim would stay asleep for a few more minutes, then slowly wake up, so he used this time to conjure up a cool wet rag and began to clean Dean's face.

As more and more of the grime came off his face, Dean looked better and better. Castiel sighed with relief, no longer worried that Dean would die.

Slowly but surely, Dean began to wake up. First, he started making small sounds that Castiel thought were some of the cutest noises to ever grace the mortal world. Then his body began to move. Finally, Dean cracked his eyes open, and they immediately locked gazes with Castiel's eyes.

"Hey, Love," Dean said groggily. "I'm so sorry for what I did…"

Castiel almost cried with relief. "Hello, Dean. And I do not care what you did anymore."

Dean reached up to place a hand on Castiel's cheek. "I cannot seem to understand why you would ever want to hide yourself. You're so… so handsome." Dean's eyes shifted to Castiel's lips, then back up to his eyes. "And your eyes are so beautiful, Cas. They're, like, the bluest blue to ever blue."

"You can call me 'Cas' forever, please," Castiel told him. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, so he blinked a few times to clear them, and then helped Dean stand. "We're going to go back to Olympus, and you're going to hand this box to my father. That is what he really wants, the box. Then you're going to announce that you completed all the tests and that you would like him to bless our marriage."

"Oh," Dean said. "Okay, Cas."

"Unless you do not want to get married to me anymore. I would understand, I suppose. You literally went through hell to get back to me, and I was locked away in my bedroom the whole time."

"Cas, I still want to be with you, definitely," Dean said, his voice still a little slurred from sleep. "I just… I can't believe Michael tricked me into opening that stupid box."

"It doesn't matter now," Castiel told him, as he picked him up bridal style and prepared to take off.

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean said. "Stop, Cas. Hold on a second. Look at your wings! What happened to them?"

"Michael ripped some of my feathers out."

"You cannot fly like that," Dean insisted. "Especially not while carrying me."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll get Gabriel to come and pick us up in his chariot."

Dean smiled and closed his eyes, leaning his head on Castiel's shoulder. "That sounds fun, Cas."

* * *

Once they entered the assembly hall of the Olympians, Dean and Castiel walked straight over to Michael's throne.

"Here is your stupid box," Dean told him, holding out the wooden structure in one hand. The other hand was entwined with one of Castiel's.

Michael smirked weakly. "Let me see it," he ordered, gesturing for Dean to hang him the box.

"Oh, you wanna see it?" Dean taunted. "Here, then." With all his strength, he threw the box towards the grounds. It shattered into thousands of tiny wood fragments.

Michael yelped. "Why would you do that?" he demanded.

"Because I won," Dean said, holding up Castiel's hand in his for emphasis. "I completed all of the challenges that you had set up for me. And now, I get the best man in the world. And I am definitely going to treat him a lot better than you do."

Michael scowled. "I do not-"

"Whatever you're going to say, let me cut you off right there by saying that neither of us care," Castiel told his father, before holding out his and Dean's linked hands. "Now, bless our upcoming marriage, like you swore to."

Michael huffed his reluctance, but did not move a single muscle.

Cas shook his wrist. "Do it, Father, or I will make sure that Carver knows that you are not cooperating."

Michael growled, but held his hand out above their hands. "May love forever grace your marriage and may your strong bond bless your days together."

"That's it?" Dean asked, surprised.

Castiel nodded. "Oh, and Father, I have some good news!"

"What is it?" Michael snarled.

"Charlie was thinking up punishments for you, and she decided that it would be a great therapeutic thing for you if you officiated our wedding!"

Michael's face was as red as a tomato.

* * *

"I really am sorry, you know," Dean apologized for the hundredth time. "My brothers' nagging got the best of me, and I didn't know who to trust, and I betrayed you."

"Dean," Castiel admonished. "I do not care. If anything, it is my fault. What kind of man practically kidnaps another and then keeps him captive in a castle for six weeks, then becomes angry when he tries to figure out who his captor is and what he looks like?"

"I was not a captive," Dean insisted, rolling his eyes and resting his head on Castiel's shoulders.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Cas said, sighing happily. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you, too, Cas."

* * *

 **Hope you guys liked it! This is my longest one-shot yet, and it took a while to write, but it was worth it. I'm really happy with the way it turned out. If you liked it, please review!**


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